


Boys in Bands

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Fluff, Heteronormativity, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It was the 90s, M/M, Music, Romance, Secret Relationship, light murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Two years. Two perspectives. Two boy band members secretly in love.It's kinda deadly, kinda sweet.





	Boys in Bands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ColorfulMetaphor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulMetaphor/gifts).



## 1999

With his hair slicked back under a baseball cap and sunglasses covering half his face, Will stopped at the newsstand downstairs from his apartment. The magazines offered the usual options of financial advice, home decor ideas, dietary admonitions and pouty models in trendy looks. He bypassed all of those until he came to the celebrity gossip rags and saw his own face angrily staring back at him.

Will was pretty sure the photo had been taken by paparazzi at the airport, explaining why he looked so upset. The editors, however, had taken it out of context to fit their headline: “ **WILL G. IN BOY BAND BATTLE WITH GUESS WHO?!** ” On the opposite side of the cover was a photo of a man with his face just barely blurred out. His trademark cheekbones were still plainly obvious, for crying out loud.

Fuming, Will reached into his jacket pocket and flipped open his phone. He dialed as he paid for the magazine.

“I was expecting your call,” said the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, have you seen for yourself?” Will asked, ducking away from the newsstand.

“Of course. My agent just dropped off a copy.”

“They’re so wrong,” Will said. “We’re _not_ fighting! We even see eye to eye on… _you know_ … things other people wouldn’t understand.”

“Let them think what they want; it works to our advantage.” Just the sound of his voice was so reassuring. Will felt the tension go out of him. “Are you coming over?”

“As soon as I can get a cab,” Will said. He waved from the curb.

“See you soon. Don’t forget that I love you.”

Will blushed and hid his huge grin behind his jacket collar. “Love you, too,” he said, and flipped his phone shut.

* * *

## 1998

Hannibal was intrigued by the lead singer of the Back Street Underdogs. Will Graham was undeniably attractive, with a face just asymmetrical enough to beg closer study, and hair out of a Botticelli painting. But these were not why Hannibal found himself transfixed in the wings, watching as BSU performed.

Will was a competent singer and dancer, but he exuded a charisma and level of emotional connection with the audience that Hannibal found stunning. At 20 he was only slightly younger than Hannibal himself, but simultaneously brought sweet innocence and a deeper maturity to his performance. The rest of the band—Nicky Boyle, Brian Z and Jamie Price—were clearly dead weight, only serving to drag Will down with them. They had to rely on slick hairstyles and garish clothes to convey their personalities.

Hannibal felt an elbow nudge his back.

“You know, instead of watching our competition, maybe we should be going over our own moves one last time. The Animal agrees with me.” It was Matty Brown, pesky little thing.

Hannibal rolled his eyes. “His name is Randall. The Animal is a ridiculous stage name. He’s not a Muppet.”

BSU’s song came to an end and Bryan Fullcrest, the host of _Battle of the Boy Bands_ , jogged onto the stage. He jabbed a microphone towards Will, who immediately seemed uncomfortable in a way he hadn’t while performing.

“Over the last three weeks of competition, we’ve learned a lot about you,” Fullcrest said. “Is there anything you can tell the audience tonight that they don’t know?”

Will tilted his head so that his hair covered his eyes somewhat. “Um… I guess my ultimate goal is to rescue stray dogs.” The audience _aww_ ed their approval. A few young fans shrieked, unable to contain themselves. “In-in fact, I found two dogs last night, i-if anyone wants to adopt them.”

The shrieks became a deafening roar.

Hannibal was impressed. Will Graham knew how to get what he wanted.

Fullcrest wound up the interview portion and gave out the phone number for viewers to call in and vote for the Back Street Underdogs. Then he turned toward stage left and waved Hannibal over.

“Please welcome our next band, the band that just barely survived the chopping block last week: It’s… the one, the only… M*PATH… performing their song ‘I’m a Killer, Baby’!”

Hannibal put on a smile and danced his way on stage.

* * *

## 1999

As soon as Hannibal opened the door to his apartment, Will flung off his flimsy disguise and threw himself into his arms.

Hannibal staggered backwards with the impact and Will laughed, taking hold of his face and kissing it all over.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Will said between kisses. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“It’s only been two days,” Hannibal said.

Will pulled back just enough to frown at him. “Are you saying you didn’t miss me?”

“I missed you the instant you left,” Hannibal said. Will ran his fingers as best he could through Hannibal’s spiky, well-gelled hair. “I miss you right now, thinking of the moment you’ll leave me again.”

Will sighed and bowed his head onto Hannibal’s shoulder. “I wish we could just go out in public like any other couple.” Hannibal kissed the top of his head and stroked small, languid circles into the middle of his back. “Um, are you suddenly as horny as I am?”

“If not more so,” Hannibal said.

“Good,” Will said, and raced him into the bedroom.

***

Will was halfway into a very sticky, very satisfied sleep when Hannibal nudged him awake again.

“Tobias wants M*PATH to go on tour,” Hannibal said. “To promote the studio album.”

“You should,” Will murmured. “And don’t let him talk you out of incorporating ballet moves in your choreography. I think it’s genius. Nobody else is doing it.”

“Tobias wants us to go on tour as the _opening act_ for Back Street Underdogs,” Hannibal clarified. “He says he’s been working it out with your agent and the sponsors all week.”

Will propped himself up on one elbow and frowned. “Jack Crawford hasn’t said anything about it to me.”

“I told you because I didn’t want you to be blindsided,” Hannibal said. “I plan to refuse. This feud between us the magazines have concocted… it works to our advantage that people think we hate one another. That would be difficult to maintain if we were touring together.”

Will sat up and gave Hannibal’s belly a light slap in scolding. “We’ll fight in public if we have to! Hannibal, don’t pass up this chance. People should have just as much chance to see your artistic ideas as it does my dog-rescuing plans.”

Hannibal reached up to stroke the side of Will’s face with a tender look of adoration. “I have a feeling if I try to argue, it will only be in vain.”

Will lay back down and nestled into the crook of Hannibal’s shoulder. “Damn right it would be,” he said. “I only have one request.”

“What’s that?” Hannibal asked.

“No murdering people on tour,” Will said. “You’re going to get caught.”

* * *

## 1998

There was no shame in losing the Battle of the Boy Bands to Will Graham’s BSU, Hannibal felt. The competition had been silly, but also good exposure for both bands, and Hannibal was now in a position to take his art on the road with or without the rest of M*PATH.

He was waiting outside Will’s dressing room to congratulate him when he overheard the conversation taking place inside.

“No, just listen,” Will was saying. He strummed an acoustic guitar and hummed a few bars in a lovely tenor. “I think it works better as a folk ballad.”

“Nobody wants a folk ballad from a _boy band_.” It was BSU’s agent, Fred Chilton, and he sounded annoyed.

“Just listen,” Will said again, and began to sing.

_I’ve missed you all the days that you’ve been gone, Pearl,  
I dream about you every night, you were my good, good girl_.

Chilton laughed. “Is this song about another one of your dogs?”

“It’s not _not_ about my dogs,” Will said.

“Change Pearl to Sadie and girl to baby,” Chilton said. “Put that empathy to use, kid. Isn’t that what I told you when you sent me your silly little poems? It’ll sell more records.”

“Maybe it’s time we found a new agent,” Will said.

Chilton giggled, then broke into a full belly laugh. “Please! I made you, kid. I’m a star maker. Without me, you’d be working in a vet clinic and singing to the spay-and-neuter ward!”

Hannibal stepped out of the way just as Chilton threw open the door and stormed out. He gave Hannibal a look of utter contempt. “Congrats on winning second place,” he said. “Otherwise known as losing.”

“Thank you,” Hannibal said with a small bow.

Chilton, all the more infuriated at the display of graciousness, stalked away from the dressing rooms.

Hannibal knocked on the door even though it was already open. Will looked up from the sofa, guitar still in his lap, his face red and eyes wet with unshed tears.

“Something terrible needs to happen to that man,” Hannibal said, offering Will a sympathetic smile.

“I could never be so lucky,” Will sniffed.

Hannibal plucked a tissue from the vanity and handed it to him. “Don’t be so sure.”

He began to formulate a plan.

* * *

## 1999

Will got dressed while Hannibal lounged in bed. He put on a little show of stretching and bending over to reach every piece of clothing he’d dropped on the floor.

“I’m curious about something,” Hannibal said. “I can never predict you, so forgive me for just coming right out and asking.”

Will sat on the edge of the bed while he pulled on his socks and shoes. “Ask away. It’s not like we have secrets.”

“Did you know you were asking me to kill your first agent?” Hannibal asked. “When you wept so prettily and turned your big blue eyes up at me, did you know what you were asking for?”

Will thought back to their brief chat in his dressing room that night a year ago. “I knew I was… increasing the odds in my favor.”

Hannibal sat up and gave a happy sigh. “Do you have to go?”  He took Will’s hands in his own

“Yeah, I was supposed to meet Jack Crawford—” He looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago. Shit!”

“Come back tonight,” Hannibal said. "I'll cook you dinner. I've been practicing."

Will got to his feet and kissed him on the forehead. “If I can dodge the paparazzi, I'll stay all night.”

***

Crawford was already glowering when Will walked into his office.

Will dropped into a chair across from Crawford’s desk. “Sorry, I got held up in traffic on—”

Crawford waved, cutting him off. “I can smell you from here, Graham. I know the back of a cab isn’t exactly pristine, but unless you rolled all over the seat after someone had sex on it, I’m not buying the traffic excuse.”

Will blushed, then remembered he was an adult who could do what he damned well wanted. “Why’d you call me in, Jack?”

“Tobias Budge has been bugging me,” he said. “He wants M*PATH to be your opening act, but I told him you hate the lead singer. I told him to read _People_ for proof if he needed more than my word.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Oh, that stupid rumor—”

“I _started_ that rumor,” Jack said. “Yes, it's stupid, but if you want to keep carrying on with Hannibal Lecter, you need cover. I’m an open-minded guy, Graham, but not everybody is.”

Will’s jaw dropped. It took him several moments to even make a sound. There was obviously no use in denying that he and Hannibal were together, and a second agent turning up dead in a year would be _highly_ suspicious. He couldn't risk drastic measures just yet.

So he gathered himself up mentally, letting himself call on some of Hannibal’s cool demeanor and use it as his own.

“Do you have any control over when or if the paparazzi follows me?” he asked.

“A little,” Crawford said with a shrug. “I call them now and then, alert them when you might be seen under the right circumstances. I drop narrative hints.” He wiggled his fingers as if he were sprinkling salt on his meal.

Will got to his feet and fixed Crawford with a serious look. “Don’t call them tonight or tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’m spending the night at my boyfriend’s and I plan to sleep in tomorrow morning. Also tell Budge you’d be happy to have Hannibal’s band play with us.”

As he turned toward the door, Crawford called out to him. “Why’s he worth it to you, anyway?”

“I guess you could say he sees me,” Will said over his shoulder. “And I see him.”

* * *

## 1998

Hannibal kept an eye on the TV as he finished packing his bags. The evening news was airing breaking news regarding the grisly death of famous talent agent, Frederick Chilton.

A news anchor, having just gone a shade paler than her ivory blouse, read from a sheet of paper she’d just been handed. “For those of you just joining us… I… I must remind our viewers… this might not be suitable for young viewers, or anyone else, for that matter.”

She went on to read off a few details about how Chilton had been found at the Sherman Observatory posed under the telescope.  Then she shook her head and asked for a station break to collect herself.

A few minutes later, a knock came at his door.

Hannibal paused. He’d been careful. Nobody had seen him, he was sure of it. He peered through the peephole and was surprised to find Will Graham on the other side.

“It’s me,” Will called out, and knocked again. “I thought we might grab some dinner or something now that the show is over.”

Hannibal opened the door. “That sounds lovely—”

Will brushed past him and swept into the room. “Also, I wanted to thank you or killing Chilton.”

Hannibal blinked and shut the door. “Pardon me?”

Will flopped down onto the bed. “You don’t have to pretend. I mostly figured out what you were a while ago. The Chilton thing just confirmed it.”

“How—”

Will rolled his eyes. “You have a song called 'I’m a Killer, Baby,’ for crying out loud!”

“Ostensibly, the song is about a so-called lady killer,” Hannibal said. He sat on the other bed, across from Will. “Not a _literal_ killer.”

“Ostensibly,” Will allowed. “That’s why I went back and checked a few things. A lot of scumbags turned up dead on the same nights you had gigs with your old band, in a lot of different towns. Well, not a lot, maybe. But four is enough for a pattern.”

Hannibal shivered. He never thought being so exposed would feel so… _welcome_. “At first I wanted to stuff him inside a dog crate,” Hannibal said. “For the way he said you’d be working in a vet’s clinic if not for him.”

“Posing him under the telescope was better,” Will said. “Chilton could never be a star himself. He was left looking up at the stars, even in death. Longing… futile…”

Hannibal nodded. “You see me.”

“You see me, too,” Will said.

“Clearer than ever,” Hannibal agreed, as a thousand new songs burst into life in his mind. Even better? He could tell the same thing was happening for Will, too.

 

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @RogueQuartz over on Tumblr who asked for a 90s boy band Hannigram AU, and also supplied the delightful band names.


End file.
